


How do you love a god?

by Luzifersboyfriend



Series: Motanite [1]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Mianite
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Pre-Canon, Soft sex, THis cured my month long writer's block, What is this you ask? Me falling head first into a series that finished five years ago, and here i am, basically this is before dianite died and mot went through the portal, because that's so sexy of them, so I thought to myself be the change you want to see in the world, they love each other okay, this scene came to me so vividly and i looked on ao3 there was nothing there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzifersboyfriend/pseuds/Luzifersboyfriend
Summary: Dianite finds the book in which Mot confesses his love for him. The confrontation that follows does not go the way Mot had expected it to go.
Relationships: Lord Dianite/Mot_Screziato (Mianite)
Series: Motanite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037880
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	How do you love a god?

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is expecting me to post a new chapter of my Obikin fic, instead I'm here writing for this niche fandom and having the time of my life with it. I promise I will finish all my other projects at some point, but this pairing took my heart by storm.
> 
> That being said, I do hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have no idea if they're out of character or not, but I also honestly don't care.

>   
>  _“I suppose I must write my confession. My lord, my god… I sometimes find myself awake at night wondering if more could be attained._  
>  _I see the way Spark looks at Lady Ianite, I see the way Martha and Steve exchange glances. I wish I had such fortune._  
>  _I think I may love him, if I’m to be truthful. I’m not sure what it really means, but… the words feel right on my lips._  
>  _I love Dianite. Ah, yes. It must be true. I want to look at him the way the others look at each other, with such warmth and affection…_  
>  _Yet I owe him too much. I wouldn’t dare say anything and risk ruining what I already have. Who would look so favourably on a poor, mottled man as a merchant and trusted business partner… and as something more?_  
>  _I’m foolish. I’m stupid. I’m worthless. He is a god, my god. I suppose only time will tell…"_  
>  -Mot Screziato  
> 

_“Hey, Mot?”_

Mot paused in where he was wiping down the counters of his kitchen, waiting for Dia to carry on. He sounded more hesitant or thoughtful than Mot had heard him in a long time.

_“This book here,”_ Dianite continued and Mot froze, heart leaping into his throat.

He turned, very slowly, to see Dianite standing before him with a familiar leather bound journal in his hands, the cover worn, his finger marking a particular page.

That was Mot’s journal, the one where-

He swallowed thickly, unable to look Dia in the eye, staring down at his feet as he asked “yes?”

His voice sounded rough to his ears, his heart beating a quick, erratic rhythm in his chest.

“You love me?”

And there it was.

“I, uh-.. I didn’t mean- I, uhm.. Please don’t be angry with me,” he begged softly, head ducking lower until his chin disappeared into his scarf. He could feel Dianite’s gaze on his face.

“Do you love me?” he asked again, voice unchanged, still thoughtful, still calm.

Mot’s shoulders slumped in defeat, gaze blurry on the sandstone tiles beneath his feet. The air was impossibly hot even though it was evening and a cool breeze had drifted in through the windows a moment ago.

It felt like time paused, the world holding its breath, waiting for his answer. How do you love a god? Was devotion not also love?

“Yes,” he finally confessed.

His voice shook, sounding defeated, his bottom lip trembled.

And just like that he had ruined everything he’d had going for him. If dianite dropped him now, how was he supposed to provide for himself and Alyssa? How was he supposed to _live_ with the knowledge that he’d been rejected?  
How had Spark done this? How did one love a god?

Strong arms wrapped around him, warm and solid and Mot automatically buried his face in the warm shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been waiting for you,” Dia’s voice rumbled in his ear, soft and full of comfort.

“I could not come to you, you’re oath- I couldn’t have asked you for such a thing,” he continued explaining, but Mot was confused. What-?

He pulled back enough to be able to look at those familiar red eyes, which were staring back at him earnestly.

“What are you talking about?” Mot requested to know, face twisted in confusion.

The book was pressing uncomfortably into his back, but Mot couldn’t ask Dia to put it away, the answer he needed was much more important than that.

Dianite sighed, reaching up with one hand to rub the bridge of his nose.

“I love you too,” he admitted simply, looking at Mot with honest affection written all over his face.

“But I couldn’t tell you, the risk of forcing you into anything was too great. You swore to obey me and- well, I didn’t- that wasn’t the basis I wanted a potential relationship to build on.”

Mot couldn’t help the startled, choked laugh that left him, pressed into Dianite’s shoulder, tears in his eyes.

“Oh, you silly god,” he chuckled wetly, voice full of love. “Of course I love you, I follow you _because_ I love you, I _want_ to be loyal to you. That oath was made from love.”

Slowly a smile spread on Dianite’s face and he leaned forward to kiss Mot, arms still wrapped around him and finally, Mot reached up to hold onto him as well, gripping his shoulders tightly.

It was a soft kiss, full of the loyalty that had bound them together for years already, full of the love they’d denied themselves for too long. Mot’s hand slipped up to hold the god’s cheek, brushing his hand over the beard that grew there, smiling into the kiss.

It made Dia smile as well, prompting them both to chuckle as the kiss grew less coordinated, their teeth clacking and noses brushing. It didn’t matter, Mot had wanted this for _years_ and it was perfect.

He wasn’t worried that anyone would find them, night was dawning on the desert town, a cool wind blowing in through the windows all around them. The village would be asleep already, Alyssa was staying at Aunt Martha’s and Uncle Steve’s because Mot had supposed to be discussing business with dianite in the evening.

They were alone together and they had all the time in the world to explore what this now meant for their relationship, previously platonic and business-orientated. Mot had never thought about how Dia never treated any of his other followers the way he treated him, had never thought why he was the only one - apart from Alyssa - who could get away with calling the god _Dia_ and how he could never seem to stay mad at Mot for too long.

Things were slowly falling into place now, the longer they kissed. Dianite _cared_ about him. He cared deeply and the realisation was overwhelming.

Suddenly the god pulled away, concern written all over his face. “Mot, darling, are you crying?”

Mot frowned, slowly reaching up to his own cheek, fingers coming away wet. His chest was so busy filling with warmth at the nickname - which wasn’t _new_ per se, but he’d always just put it off as _he’s just teasing_ \- that he needed a moment to put the two things together.

“I guess I am,” he replied in surprise, sniffling.

“Why? You’re not upset, are you?”

Mot shook his head, wiping at the tears with his scarf. “No. I just.. I didn’t think you’d ever..”

He hesitated, looking away from those earnest, familiar eyes.

Much more quietly, he finished “I didn’t think you’d ever go for a mortal like me.”

“Oh, Mot,” came the gentle reply and his face was tilted up by two warm hands, the book long forgotten on the counter behind him.

“You know I value you as a business partner, you’re one of the smartest, most cunning and quick-witted people I have ever met. You are passionate and you care deeply, you are always up for a new challenge, a new corner of the realm to conquer, a new task to finish for me. You are daring and brave and loyal, and you’re _beautiful.”_

“Why would I _not_ go for a mortal like you? What does anyone else have to offer me that I desire more than you?”

The words were ushered so softly but with such determination that Mot shrunk under the praise, cheeks coloring and looking away even as dianite brushed his thumb over Mot’s warm cheeks.

“I told you I love you and I will tell you again but don’t you ever doubt it, you hear me? I still _am_ your god and I won’t let you doubt your own worth. You don’t normally, so I’m not letting you start because of me,” he added before pressing another kiss to Mot’s mouth.

Mot was stunned. He’d seen Dia’s fervor often, in business meetings and in speeches alike, the same fire that could unite an entire town or trading outpost, but never had it been directed at him like this.

The kiss was a lot more heated than the one before and Mot needed a moment before he could react, a noise caught in the back of his throat, his hands tightening on Dia’s neck as he pulled him close. Dianite was pushing forward of his own volition, pressing Mot against the rough edge of the counter, making him gasp.

Suddenly, the atmosphere felt charged.

It felt like Mot’s confession had broken a dam inside of Dia, making all of his love pour out into the kiss, all the things he’d been holding back so long and Mot was powerless to stop himself from melting under the attention.

He’d never believed that he could have this much all for himself, hadn’t believed that he could be loved like this, by a god no less.

Dianite’s hands moved downwards until they had wrapped around Mot’s thighs, lifting him effortlessly and Mot groaned against the god’s mouth. He wasn’t that much taller than Mot, but his godly strength rendered that fact irrelevant.

Mot automatically wrapped his legs around him as if he’d never meant to be anywhere else, continuing to kiss Dianite as he slowly turned around and carried Mot over to the stairwell. He didn’t even have to stop kissing him to make it up the few steps and through the door into Mot’s bedroom, where they were greeted by the sight of the starry sky outside, wide and endless above the flat plains of the desert.

Neither of them paid any attention to the beauty outside, too focused on each other and all they were now allowed to explore.

Mot landed on his bed, gently laid down by Dianite, who had planted his arms on either side of him, leaning over his lover.

He broke the kiss to ask “Mot, I don’t- I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything-”

Mot rumbled out a happy noise, interrupting him with a smile and putting his hand back on Dianite’s cheek to feel him mirror the smile.

“Dia, I want this. I’ve always wanted you. I- I _want_ to belong to you. Not just as a business partner or a champion or any of that, I want to belong to you as _me,_ as a- a lover,” he forced out, swallowing, cheeks reddening at the words.

He hadn’t even written that in his journal and the word felt foreign on his tongue. His loyalty to his god ran deep, but his love ran deeper and he would _always_ want him.

Dianite, soothed by the words, dipped back down for another kiss, softer this time, but no less all-consuming.

“Do you-” he asked in between kisses, “How do you want me? All I ask is that you do this because _you_ want it.”

Mot smiled, pulling him down into another long kiss until Dianite relented and sank down to bring them flush together again.

Breaking the kiss, Mot looked up at him and murmured “I’ve dreamt about how you would feel inside of me,” prompting Dianite to close his eyes with a heavy groan, swearing under his breath.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” was his only answer as Dianite pressed kiss after kiss to his mouth and face.

“You’re such a perfect, beautiful man, you never fail to amaze me,” he rasped out, nudging under Mot’s chin to press kisses to his throat as well, his own chin buried in the soft red scarf.

“It’s going to feel so good, I’ll take such good care of you, you don’t know the amount of times I’ve wanted to offer to take care of you like this, after a long day or a bad meeting, how much I longed to make you feel better.”

His words were hushed and rough as he started tugging on Mot’s clothes with such gentle motions it barely felt like anything at all. The scarf came loose first, then Mot’s top and Dianite helped him get it over his head until he was shirtless, following suit a moment later.

“I’ve dreamt about this too, my dear, about how wonderful you would feel under my hands,” he muttered before Mot interrupted him again to press another deep kiss to his mouth, arching up until their naked torsos brushed, making Dianite sigh into the kiss.

Mot chuckled softly, reaching over to his bedside table to produce a small jar of oil, he kept there for this exact purpose. Or rather for late at night, when he’d be thinking about this exact moment and could not stop himself from emulating the feeling with his own hands - never quite like he imagined the real thing to be, but better than confession - or so he’d previously thought.

Now he pressed the jar into Dianite’s hands, giving him a grin. “Well, then, milord, care to make due on those promises?” he teased lightly, not missing the way dianite’s face twisted at the use of his title.

He growled in response, pressing close for a heated kiss before rasping “don’t get cheeky with me, boy, you know I’m only nice because I want to be,” and teasingly biting at Mot’s lower lip, who shuddered at the dark promise, groaning helplessly. Oh, he knew. He thought about that far more often than he should, about how much he enjoyed Dianite’s punishments, sought them out.

“Don’t think I miss the way you look at me when I have to punish you, darling,” the god added with a dark grin, now continuing his path of kisses and soft bites down the man’s chest.

Mot sighed out a breath, arching into the touch and letting his eyes close with happy noise. Yes, this truly was better than any dream could ever be.

“Can I?” Dianite asked, in such contrast to his previous display that Mot could only smile and nod, reaching down to help him get his pants off.

Dianite took the chance to get naked as well, giving Mot the first genuine glance at the god’s body and making him moan softly, cheeks coloring. He was _beautiful._

The god looked up at him with a smile before kneeling down on the bed between his legs, Mot spreading them to make it easier, even as his blush grew worse. He hadn’t been with anyone else in a long time, not with how his entire being had longed for Dianite and now this was making itself known in embarrassment.

Maybe it was obvious or maybe Dianite just knew him to well, but he took his time with Mot’s body, kissing long trails down each of his thighs and humming softly at every scar or mark he found, murmuring how beautiful he looked and how grateful he was that Mot wanted him like this as well.

Gradually, Mot relaxed to the point where he started pleading with Dianite to move beyond just kisses and gentle caresses, he had long been hard - ever since Dia had just picked him up like that, his body had clearly expressed its enthusiasm. These days, it didn’t take much to make him hard.

And Dianite relented easily, dipping his fingers into the jar of oil to carefully begin stretching him - not before he had asked once more if Mot truly wanted this, wanted _him,_ only getting an enthusiastic _yes, please, Dia, I want you!_ In return.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling, Mot had done this to himself many times over the years, but these were Dianite’s hands holding him open and gently pushing into him and so it had him moaning high and unrestrained. The god was murmuring a constant, soothing stream of praise - how well Mot was doing, how beautiful he looked, how nicely his body accepted Dianite as its god, only making Mot’s arousal crest higher with every passing minute, until his impatience won over.

“I’m ready, Dia, please, I want to feel you,” he groaned, reaching down to tug on Dianite’s shoulder to get him to move up and finally sink into him.

_“I_ decide that, my dear, I don’t want to hurt you, not right now,” was his reply and Mot whined in return, one arm coming up to cover his face and choke the desperate noise he produced at that statement.

“Yes, milord,” he murmured out of reflex, groaning when Dianite rewarded him with a curl of his fingers that had Mot seeing _stars._

It was only a few moments later - Mot had no idea how much time had actually passed - that dianite pulled his fingers out of him, crawling back over him until they were face to face once more.

_“Please,”_ Mot replied, before Dianite even had a chance to ask.

“I need you, Dia,” he added and that was all it took for the god to reach down with one hand, steadying himself so he could slowly push into the man before him, watching his face in amazement.

Mot threw his head back into the pillow with a high keening noise, back arching and legs spreading impossibly wider as Dianite sank deeper and deeper into him. The preparation had made the slide so smooth now, no hint of pain or discomfort despite Dianite’s dick being a lot larger than Mot’s fingers ever had been.

Diannite bottomed out eventually, sunken all the way to the hilt, bracketed between Mot’s thighs and close enough so he could easily dip down to kiss him, which is exactly what Dianite did.

“You feel so good,” he moaned against Mot’s mouth, “so tight and beautiful for me.”

Mot could only moan at that, mouth going slack in their kiss when Dianite pulled back slightly to push back into him again. His body tensed and shuddered at the delicious drag of Dianite’s cock over his spot, making him sigh into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

Dianite did it again, softly, carefully, before increasing the depth of his thrusts when all he got was positive feedback from his partner.

He never quickened his pace, wanting to stay close to Mot and give him the attention and adoration he deserved, sinking deeply into him with every thrust, kissing him just as slowly and languidly, as if they had all the time in the world.

Which they did, the moon stood high in the sky, silvery light streaming in from the open windows, the day’s heat being mellowed out by the cool night air. And in it all, a god and a man, intertwined for the very first time, the world forgotten at their feet.

They only had eyes for each other, foreheads leaned against one another, exchanging soft kisses and whispered confessions as their arousal grew between them with every push of the god’s hips, with every drag of Mot’s dick against their stomachs.

It didn’t take long for them to come but at the same time it felt like a lifetime before dianite was increasing his pace to press more deeply into him, pulling out almost all the way on every push, Mot moaning high and strained below him, his legs tensing rhythmically around the god’s hips.

When orgasm reached them, it did so mercifully, lovingly. Mot’s mouth opened on a wordless moan, head pressed back into the sheets and back arching as his dick painted their stomachs white, dianite watching in rapt wonder before he too succumbed to the pleasure. He pressed forward until he couldn’t any longer, coming deep inside of his lover and burying his face and his moan into his shoulder, curling in over him, more man than god.

Once their heartbeats had slowed and their breathing grew less erratic, Dianite pressed a soft kiss to Mot’s mouth, holding him close for long moments, knowing sleep would come for his lover all too soon.

“I love you,” Mot murmured quietly, a satisfied smile on his face. Dianite would take care of the rest, because that was all that mattered.

How do you love a god?

Gently, absolutely, _reverently._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, you can find me on tumblr under @iscariot-rising.


End file.
